


Böi oh Böi

by lethallyfreezingnewspaper



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crack, Attempt at Humor, Basically I set out to write the worst fic ever and This Is It, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Cringe, Does AO3 even show emojis, Funny, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Humor, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, LET'S FIND OUT, M/M, Purring, Self-Sacrifice, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, emojis, uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-05 19:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20278381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethallyfreezingnewspaper/pseuds/lethallyfreezingnewspaper
Summary: I tried to write the worst possible fic I could think of- terrible tropes, over-exaggerated characters, everything. This is that fic. :)_______________________Tony whispers “UwU.”Steve’s eyes get all soft and mushy, and he whispers “RAWR” back, before pecking him on the nose.________________Have fun y'all.





	1. THE CARE AND KEEPING OF YOU

**Author's Note:**

> OK, people. This *technically* fulfils my 'purring' square on my Good Things Happen bingo, though I didn't actually realize that until after I had written it (lmao). 
> 
> Uh, remember this is all in jest and I'm not actually trying to offend anyone here. Also, don't take this as an accurate representation of my writing skills. 
> 
> I wrote most of this fic in the back of an Uber on the Notes app of my phone, so the grammar + spelling might suffer from that. But this fic is SUPPOSED to suck, so I didn't bother proof-reading it.
> 
> I'll try to be posting a new chapter twice/daily. The entire fic is finished, I just need to remember to post it.

The Care and Keeping of You-

**Chapter 5: Orientations!**

We’ve all heard of the three orientations: Hard Böi, Neutral Böi, and Soft Böi.

But what really is an orientation?

An orientation, simply put, in an aesthetic preference through which one relaxes.

Hard Böis tend to like blues and greys. They relax by doing things such as hunting, building things, and playing sport.

Soft Böis tend to like pastel colours. They usually relax by doing things such as knitting, baking, and napping.

Neutral Böis are a mix of the two and make up the majority of the human population.

In terms of clothing, Soft Böis tend to prefer loose, soft clothing, while Hard Böis like much more tight-fitting, practical cloth.

All of the previously mentioned things, however, are rather subjective. Where one Soft Böi might find drawing peaceful, the other might find it frustrating. You need to figure out your own style and aesthetic!

How do I tell if I am a Soft Böi, Neutral Böi, Hard Böi?

The easiest way to tell what your orientation is through vocalizations. There are two mains vocalizations: UwU and RawR. UwU is mainly used by Soft Böis, and RawR is mainly used by Hard Böis.

But how do these vocalizations work? Well, you know how you naturally say ‘ow!’ when you stub your toe? Similarly to that, in times of high emotion, you will naturally vocalize either UwU, RawR, or your own personal vocalization if you are a Neutral.

These vocalizations can have a variety of meanings, depending on the context. The purpose of the words is to convey emotion.

For instance, at funerals you will often hear distraught Soft Böis crying ‘UwU UwU UwU!’. In times of extreme emotional distress such as this, it is best to let the Fam-Squad (See more about Fam-Squads in chapter eight) comfort the Soft Böi, and to give them space.

An interesting, and rare, phenomenon is the Purr. This is a continuous repetition of a Böi’s vocalizations; it means that, at that moment, the Böi is truly, utterly happy. In Soft Böis it will sound like UwUUwUUwUUwU, while in Hard Böis it will sound like RawRRawRawR. Once again, Neutral Böis will have their own, personalized vocalization.

In terms of physiques, Hard Böis tend to be taller and have sharper faces, while Soft Böis tend to have rounder faces and curvier, smaller bodies.

Now, let’s talk about some stereotypes. Throughout history, Soft Böis are often portrayed as weaker, dumber, and less efficient, while Hard Böis are seen as stronger and smarter. Innumerable scientific studies have proved this inaccurate, but the belief is still wide-spread and pervasive. There’s a reason that most of the top CEOs in the world are Hard Böis, and it’s not their competence. In fact, some studies have even show Soft Böis to be better leaders, as they tend to be more empathetic and able to pick up on subtle social cues.

So, whether you be Neutral, Hard, or Soft: embrace your orientation, find your style, and do whatever you want. We here at American Böi believe in you!!

……..

**Chapter Eight: Fam-Squad**

What is a Fam-Squad? Your parents are probably part of a Fam-Squad. It’s a group of Hard, Soft, and Neutral Böis that have platonically and legally bonded together. Within Fam-Squads, which are usually 4-8 people large (but can be much larger, such as the 200-person Fam-squad that occupies an entire town in Switzerland), there can be several couples.

There are two traditional couple pairings: Neutral-Neutral, and Hard-Soft. Hard-hard, Soft-Soft, and Neutral-nonneutral pairings were often frowned upon in society, but have recently become more accepted. Indeed, the USA recently legalized all HH, SS, and NNN marriages, something that was seen as a great win for the community.

Most people will be part of a fam-squad, even if they’re not in a romantic relationship. Don’t worry if you have neither, however; you will find Böis to bond with over time.

How do you form a fam-squad?

There is, of course, a preliminary to the fam-squad; the squad. Squads can be formed at any age, and often occur naturally, whether it be on the playground or in the classroom. At such a young, flexible age, it is a common occurrence to be apart of two, perhaps even three squads.

Therefore, the better question to ask is:

How do I form a strong squad?

As you hit puberty, your body will flood with hormones that cause you to have near-relentless urge to find, have, and protect a singular squad. As you move from middle school into high school, most people will find themselves cutting ties until they only have one main squad. This has led to the ‘class and squad exclusion’ cliche that is very popular in most high-school movies. (see: Mean Girls, Clueless, etc.). While this can be very helpful in forming tight bonds- 25% of high school squads will one day become Fam-squads- it also means that, for the 5% of high school students who are unable to become part of a pack, these four years can be some of the worst in their lives.

If you are part of this 5%, there is no need to worry. The first five years after high school are when almost 50% of squads meet. Less than 0.5% of the population never forms a squad.

Any squad can become a fam-squad. In an act similar to marriage, everyone that is part of a squad who wants to be united will sign a legal document. The main difference from marriage, however, is increased flexibility; people can be added and removed from the fan-squad without full dissolution of the entire group.

The uniting of a fam-squad is often called a “rave”. In this, the Essence of your fam-squad is celebrated, whether that be through drinking, dancing, cuddling, reading, or anything else.

In many cases, multi-generational squads form. Due to growing up so close together, the younger generation forms their own fam-squad. Then, their children form the next fam-squad, and the next, and so forth. Note that the children of fam-squad members can become married, but not if they are blood-related.

Remember, when it comes to finding a squad (and a fam-squad!) the best thing to do is be yourself. There’s a squad for everyone out there; you’ll find them!


	2. Calm Ur Tit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot actually starts to happen in this one lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two, in which some stuff actually happens instead of just massive amounts of exposition. Have fun.

Howard is sure that Tony was going to be a Hard Böi.

It is never even a question.

He is raised to run the company, to live in a world of sharp edges and steely greys.

But, as Tony grows older, his features become rounder, his color preferences become more pastel, and he refuses to let go of his fluffy stuffed animals.

Maria panics- she has faced the force of Howard’s wrath before, and no Soft Böi, especially one as sensitive as Tony, would be able to survive it.

She conspires with Jarvis, shoves metal and hard lines into his hands, paints his room a dark blue. Covers up his true nature.

The first time Tony ever gets surgery, he is seven. The plastic surgeons take all of the adorable chubbiness, the softness that made his face gentle and kind, and cut it away, giving him hard planes and rough skin.

Maria and Jarvis take him to a small cottage in the woods to recover, while Howard is away on a business trip. It is filled with soft edges and pillows, and it’s the one place Tony can be himself. He doesn’t have to be a child genius, or an engineer. Tony can just be soft, just be... himself. A Soft Böi.

They make it a tradition, going up there a couple times a year. Looking back, Tony will realize it’s the only happy memory he has that’s related to Maria.

Tony is a Soft Böi to his core. Howard and Maria are Neutral Böis, capable of working either way, but all the best CEOs are Hard Böis. There is no room for a Soft Böi in a world of conference rooms and incredible wealth.

Tony learns to hide it, as he grows up. He learns to suppress the UwUs which want to naturally roll off his tongue, turn them into the hard RAWRs of Hard Böis, even though they scrape his throat and hurt his tongue.

Even though Howard thinks he is a Hard Böi, Tony is raised on stories of Captain America. The strongest, toughest, _best _Hard Böi in all of history. Howard sneers at Tony as he grows, his inherent Soft Böi nature causing him to have a smaller stature then most, small bits and pieces of softness shining through no matter what Maria does. Tony goes to bed, not on fairy tales, but on stories of blood and war and a fearless man who protected even the smallest of Soft Böis.

Tony hates Captain America, and everything he represents- all the falseness, all the bravado, the lack of feeling. He detests the sharp edge of the shield, done up in blinding primary colors, screaming for attention.

Maria ships him off to boarding school the first chance she gets, a desperate attempt to keep Tony’s secret. It’s Hard Böi only, where the blankets are rough and the rooms are freezing. There, Tony learns to defend himself, use his tongue as a knife to cut others with, even though every time he cuts a Hard Böi down to size, he feels like he is cutting into his own soft underbelly.

He graduates, quickly- _too quickly, _some whisper- and heads to MIT alone.

Howard and Maria die, driven off a cliff by Howard’s drunken rage.

Tony holds the Hard Böi façade all throughout the funeral, roughly swallows down tears, holds back the wailing UwUs that want to burst forth from within. It’s not his parents that he cares about; the towering caskets behind him mean nothing. Tony cares about the small, plain coffin that stands out of the limelight, and the butler- friend- _father _who lies within. Jarvis, killed in collateral damage, a product of Howard’s recklessness.

Tony’s voice is rough, gravelly as he talks to the crowd. 

“😢”, he says, and the crowd murmurs in agreement. Tony allows a single tear to make his way down his cheek, and lets them think it is for his parents.

A photo of this moment- the single tear, the sharp bespoke suit, the impeccable façade- will become famous. It will become _the _poster for what Hard Böis are supposed to be.

Tony feels a little part of him shrivel up and die every time he sees his face used in that way.

After burying Jarvis, in a small ceremony almost no-one attends, Tony breaks.

He cannot hold the façade anymore.

Tony cries and screams, UwUs again and again on the floor of his penthouse, shaking, sobbing, vomiting in his grief. Rhodey, that beautiful Neutral Böi, sees all of it; patiently supplies him with endless numbers of pillows, pastels, fruit.

After he comes back to his senses, a still-sniffling Tony glares at Rhodey, daring him to say something about his now-obvious orientation.

“💗💗💗” is all Rhodey murmurs as he pulls tony into a hug.

Tony sobs, then replies “💕💕💕”. 

They continue on and graduate, Rhodey flying off overseas, and Tony hires Pepper. She’s the hardest Hard Böi he’s ever met. But it’s different, in a way, than what he was raised with. Her Hardness shows through in her strict scheduling and impeccable hair, not through unnecessary violence or cruelty.

She’s brilliant, in an entirely different way from Tony. It takes her less than two weeks to figure out his orientation.

Pepper sits him down, and pins him with a piercing glare, before quietly handing him a small stuffed animal. Tony clings to it, unable to help himself from stroking the soft fur. Tony so rarely gets to hold things like this, that the velvety texture of the leopard is like heaven underneath his fingers, even as he glares balefully at her the entire time. 

But Pepper just smiles and gives him a hug, something that makes him feel all melty and soft inside, then she tells him to get those specs to her by tomorrow morning.

And that’s that.

Pepper, Rhodey, Tony. And JARVIS, too, if you count him (you should). Four-ish people, in the entire world, who know that Tony loves the feel of silk. That he loves embroidery, the soft tug of the thread painting dazzling pictures across a blank white canvas. That he is, to his core, a Soft Böi. Those four people are the only ones who know of the hidden cabin.

It stays their secret, the four of them, working around it, and they manage to keep it for_ years_.

It’s not easy.

Being a Soft Böi, even if it was suppressed from a young age, is an integral part of Tony.

They build a secret room together, in the deepest part of the Malibu mansion, that is filled with cashmere blankets and embroidery hoops. Tony goes there, after particularly tough meetings or when he’s just had enough with the world, and allows himself to relax. Just for a little while. A mini cabin, hidden away in a cliffside, sheltered from the world’s eyes, where Tony can yowl UwUs all he wants.

Then Afghanistan happens, and Yinsen becomes the fifth person in the world to know.

He holds Tony after the torture, sees how he needs his hair stroked and to be wrapped in blankets, and says nothing. Tony _knows_ he knows, but they never discuss it.

Yinsen believes in _him_, Tony Stark; his orientation doesn’t matter. Yinsen is the only person that Tony’s ever met who truly believes that, deep in his heart. It’s a small comfort in that terrible cave; how ironic, how awful that this is the one time Tony can be completely, authentically himself, and not be judged for it?

He escapes, and becomes Iron Man. Flying away from Yinsen, donning this suit of armor that Yinsen helped create against the world; Tony knows he must be strong, he must be Hard, if he is to face what is to come. Yinsen helped prepare him for that world; Tony must honor that legacy.

Ironman- the suit- _being _Ironman, especially after that fateful press conference, is great and terrible all at once.

Great, because he can fill the suit with soft padding, making the lights dim and the entire world look soft and hazy through the HUD. He can fly to the tiny soft cabin in the woods in a matter of minutes, simply drop off the radar and allow himself to _be soft. _

It’s also terrible; the media trumpets the suit, his escape, as a true testament to Hard Böi prowess. They gush about the sheer firepower it contains, the hulking metal and the cutting designs.

It’s the photo from the funeral all over again; Tony, a poster böi (heh) for Hard Böis, while every night he crawls into bed wearing pajamas bottoms covered in cartoon animals. But just like always, Tony grins and bears it.

Soft Böis are _encouraged_ to avoid in a world of conference rooms and negotiations.

But fighting?

Blood?

_Violence? _

Soft Böis still aren’t allowed to enroll in the army.

If the world discovered that Tony is vulnerable like that, is weak, is nothing more than a _Soft Böi, _they would take the suit away from him faster than Tony can whip up a cross-stitch or assemble a gun.

So Tony stays silent.

He stays quiet.

Even when the palladium begins to crawl through his veins.

The dark lines that cut across his skin are mesmerizing. Tony wastes away hours, standing in front of the mirror staring at them. It’s, in some ways, representative; finally, the Hardness that’s been poisoning him for years, turning him rancid from the inside out, has been visualized. Can be measured, in blood toxicity.

Tony does not embrace his oncoming death; yet, at the same time, he does not struggle to avoid it.

How ironic, then, that his _father _is what saves him.

_You’re my greatest creation. _

Tony laughs when Howard says that, laughs and laughs and then vomits into a nearby trashcan. Because Howard- uncaring, unfeeling, _straighten up, be better, smarter, stronger HARDER- _

If only he knew.

That his greatest creation, his pride, his joy, was _Soft. _

And just as Tony was embracing that toxicity, allowing the Hardness and palladium to spread throughout his soul, Howard saves him.

Tony dances his fingers in the light the newly-formed arc reactor shines on an opposite wall, and thinks. Wonders, idly, if Howard would’ve just left him to die, had he known the truth.

Tony doesn’t want to know the answer to that.

Vanko happens, and honestly, it’s barely a blip on Tony’s radar. Tony cares more about the fact that Rhodey _trusted him_, as a partner in battle. Because people can say whatever about Soft Böis, claim that they’re a Softist all they want, but when it comes down to it, nobody relies a Soft Böi in a fight.

Nobody, that is, except Rhodey.

And that belief, that hope, that seamless teamwork- it saves them both. 

They sit, Rhodey, Pepper, and Tony, in his Soft Room after the fight. Tony’s sprawled across their laps, hands idly sewing a flowery cross-stich, one that states in flowing cursive, “Calm your tit: just one tit, leave the other one crazy and out of control. That’s your party tit.”

Tony greatly enjoys sewing ironic cross-stitch, then gifting it to Pepper at random moments.

Anyway.

They sit, Rhodey, Pepper, and Tony, and those two beacons- pillars, really, of steadiness- card their fingers through his hair and help his heart-beat return to normal.

Tony’s not dying anymore, and he has his sarcastic cross-stitch and some pretty good friends, so everything’s going pretty well.

And then, of course, Agent Coulson calls him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always let me know your thoughts in the comments + kudos if you want :D


	3. The Optimum Hard Böi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain America is alive. 
> 
> What. The. Fuck. 
> 
> Tony hates him on sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter three in which Steve and Tony meet. It goes just about as well as you think.

There’s the Tesseract, and the whole Norse-god thing, and honestly, Tony would be _way more_ freaked out about it if not for one _other _tiny little fact taking up the majority of his brainpower:

Captain America is alive.

_Captain America is alive. _

What. The. Fuck.

Tony hates him on sight.

Well, Tony’s hated him since Howard slapped him hard enough to leave a mark, and told him to_ Harden up like Steve Rogers would, you big ol’ Softie. _

To be fair: Tony gave him the benefit of the doubt. Their first meeting wasn’t terrible, the solemn _Mr Stark _only a little foreboding, but from there things just… rolled downhill. In a trashcan. That was on fire.

Before Tony knows it, he’s standing nose-to-nose with the Optimum Hard Böi, snarling in each other's faces, egging each other on, each rearing to fight. Well, not nose-to-nose, because Tony only comes up to about mid-chest height on the mass of muscle and blond hair and perfect teeth that is Captain America. And isn’t that great?

The whole team fights, first against each other, and then _with _each other, trying to defend New York from aliens (what the fuck, world?!?). And there’s definitely…. something, there, in the way that the six of them seamlessly work together. Tony wants to hate the easy teamwork, he really does, because Captain America turned out to be just as _vile _and Hard as Howard had always bragged. Tony doesn’t want to be able to communicate with that, that _creature_ in a single look, drawing up battle plans on the fly.

Tony doesn’t want to _defer _to this pinnacle of everything that Tony hates in the world.

And yet-

When the times comes, it’s Tony that turns to Captain America for instructions.

And while he may suck as a Hard Böi, he’s actually a really, really good leader, as much as it grates on Tony to admit it. They’re winning, or at least they have a good chance of it, when Fury calls in with the news.

A nuke.

They want to _nuke _New York City.

Fuck them.

Fuck the WSC. 

That’s not going to happen, not on Tony’s watch.

He grabs the bomb with both hands, directing it up, up towards the massive hole in the sky, Captain America’s words ringing in his ears. _You’re not the type of guy to lay down on the wire. _

Tony has been trying to conform to expectations all his life. He has tried to be Hard, to only make weapons, to fit into the neat little boxes everyone puts him in. _Genius. Billionaire. Playboy. Philanthropist. Hard Böi._

And there is some truth behind each of those labels. But Tony- Tony’s _so much more than that. _He is indefinable, Soft and brave and _powerful. _

Tony takes the nuke, defying all expectations, and lays down on the wire.

It’s terrifying; flying into the wormhole, being completely and utterly alone. Seeing the gaping expanse in front of him and not being ready, prepared, for how small, insignificant, _soft _he would feel in that moment.

He stares into the unknown, nuke clasped in his hands, and lets a tiny, scared UwU slip past his lips.

He is dying, soft and alone, and he is okay with it.

The next thing Tony remembers is shining bright light, and he moves towards it. It envelops him, soft, welcoming, stroking his skin, soothing his hurts-

A harsh roar pulls him away from it, drives it away, scares him, and his eyes fly open-

Steve leans over him. He looks almost angelic in the sun, which is streaming down from the seamless sky, unbroken by terrible holes and rips.

  
Tony shoves those thoughts aside, the ones whispering to _touch _or _hold, _and instead blabbers on about shawarma, while he tries to ignore how fondly Steve is staring down at him.

Whatever.   


Tony still hates him.


	4. honestly who cares at this point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Tony secludes himself away, builds up his walls, works on improving and improving both his mental and physical armor. 
> 
> But there’s one chink. 
> 
> One, stupid little crack that Tony can never seal. 
> 
> And it comes in the form of Steve Mother-Fucking Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking at the views and I can't believe 160+ people have read this... lmao all I can think is 'I'm sorry'

Tony invites them all to live in his tower (Steve included, but only because it’d be rude _not _to invite Steve). He does it even though that’s something a Hard Böi wouldn’t do, because the thought of having a _squad _is both terrifying and wonderful.

Tony’s never had a squad before, always been far too secluded_, _unpredictable, and antisocial to keep many people around. He never wanted one, anyway; he had JARVIS, and the bots, and Rhodey and Pepper. That was enough.

But when he thinks of the Avengers _together, _not only as a team but as- as- a family? A squad? _A fam-squad? _That’s so exciting that, when Tony starts thinking about it too much, he needs to cuddle his emergency Fluffy Blanket that he keeps in the workshop just to stop himself from UwUing.

They move in, and it’s a bit awkward at first, a bunch of unrelated Neutral and Hard Böis living in the same space. But as time wears on, the rest of the team grows closer, bonding over lunches and movie nights.

Although possible, squads often struggle to function without all three orientations being represented. And they’re definitely a squad, now, the six of them. As they grow more comfortable with each other, the days turning into weeks turning into months, Tony’s instincts start to ramp up more and more, as they realize that there is a vital _part, _a role, of his squad missing.

A role that Tony could, theoretically, fulfil.

A role that Tony could never _realistically _fulfil.

His Soft Böi time, something he used to only need once a week, becomes a daily habit. Another room is built, similar to the one in the Malibu Mansion, secluded away in a corner of the workshop. Tony’s the only person, besides JARVIS, who can access it. 

The team has become squad, and Tony shuts himself away more and more.

The others discourage it for a little while, trying to lure him out with promises of food or entertainment, but over time they seem to accept it.

Tony looks back on those fantasies he used to have, of the six of them in perfect harmony, and laughs. In those, on a subconscious level, Tony always played the Soft Böi. The one that everyone looked after, even as he supplied them with food and shelter. The one everyone cuddles with, drags out of the workshop after long nights.  
  
That dream will never be a reality.

So Tony secludes himself away, builds up his walls, works on improving and improving both his mental and physical armour. 

But there’s one chink.

One, stupid little crack that Tony can never seal.

And it comes in the form of _Steve Mother-Fucking Rogers. _

Because no matter how many times Tony pushes him away, refuses to reply, locks him out of the workshop, the idiot just never. Gives. Up.

He always encourages Tony to eat, always invites him to team dinners and brunches. Steve starts leaving little doodles, too, adorable cartoons of a distraught monkey nagging an owl to eat, or sleep, or whatever he’s trying to get Tony to do at the moment.

And Tony- Tony hates it, the easy camaraderie. He feels like he’s betraying his younger self, in a way, that person who would’ve spat in the face of Captain America without a second thought.

But he secretly loves it.

No-one else has been this steadfast in his life. Rhodey is constantly off with the Air Force, Pepper always asking Tony to _sign this, make that. _Steve is the only person in Tony’s life who’s asked something, not for himself, but for _Tony. _

People ask Tony things like _can you buy this, can you make this, write this, design this, fund this- _

Steve asks _Will you do this for yourself, will you take care of yourself, will you feed your body, rest your body- _

Tony didn’t know how much he needed Steve until Steve was already an integral part of his life.

Hard Böis thrive on being in control; Soft Böis thrive from being taken care of. And naturally, so easily Tony doesn’t even realize it’s happening, he and Steve slip into that Hard Böi/Soft Böi dynamic, even as Tony simultaneously tries to cut all ties to the rest of the Avengers.

Tony doesn’t even realize how dependent he is on Steve, how much he _cares _for Steve, until one day in January, seven months after the squad moved into the tower.

It’s really not that big of a deal, just Steve bringing him some sandwiches while he’s mid-engineering binge. Tony barely registers Steve’s in the workshop, too deep in circuits and wires that he is. Steve squeezes his elbow as he leaves the plate of grilled cheese on the lab table, turning to leave, and Tony accidentally lets the beginning of a fond, grateful UwU slip out.

He freezes, and Steve_\- attentive, smart Steve_\- notices. Of course he does.

“❓❓❓” he says, concerned.

“😳” Tony stammers for a second, before gathering his wits. “❌😴”

Steve looks at him weirdly out of the corner for his eye for a second, then accepts the excuse and leaves with a gentle squeeze of Tony’s shoulder, one that does Not make tony feel warm and fluffy, shut UP brain.

As soon as the door whooshes shut behind Steve, Tony goes into full-on panic mode. Steve knows. Or, if he doesn’t, Tony is going to slip up around him sooner or later. _Dammit. _Tony knew this was going to happen, had realized his mistake only a few days in when it was clear that the team was becoming a Squad. And yes, Tony had shut himself off from the rest of them in an attempt to stop this exact situation from happening, but that fucking _Steve Rogers _is just- just- just _too good _of a person to let him go like that.

Telling Steve the truth is out of the question. They would kick him off the team in an instant. Then the SHIELD would find out, and then the board, and before too long the entire world, and everything that Tony’s worked for, everything that he’s built up over the past decade would be _gone. _Gone, in the blink of an eye, because Tony is too _weak, _too _soft. _

Tony realizes he’s crumpled to the floor, Dum-E draping his favourite pastel blanket over him. He clings to it desperately, frantically trying to regain some semblance of control over his emotions.

He cannot tell Steve the truth.

  
If he stays, Steve will discover the truth anyway.

Tony starts to pack.


	5. Dickish Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can’t kick the Avengers out; most of them have no-where to go, and that’s just too dickish a move, even for Tony.
> 
> He certainly can’t tell them.
> 
> That only leaves one option; Tony removes himself from the situation.
> 
> Permanently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao if you're reading this that means you've struggled through four chapters of this shit so props to you

He packs quickly, taking only the bare essentials. Tony’s viewing the world through a haze of terror and panic, right now, and he only remembers things like toothpaste due to JARVIS’ prodding.

Tony’s flying off in one of the suits, suitcase firmly clenched in his hand, in less than twenty minutes.

“😰” he cries as Avenger Tower fades in the background, “UwU, UwU, UwU!”. The UwUs resonate, reach some deep hidden part of him, cutting into His hidden Soft Böi side.

He doesn’t have a plan, really, of where he’s going, so he lets himself just _fly_. While he zooms over endless suburbs that gradually fade into forest, his mind races, whirs, desperately trying to come up with a _solution. _

He can’t kick the Avengers out; most of them have no-where to go, and that’s just too dickish a move, even for Tony.

He certainly can’t _tell _them.

That only leaves one option; Tony removes himself from the situation.

Permanently.

It’s certainly not ideal, (that’s the fucking understatement of the year), but-

Tony’s train of thoughts is interrupted suddenly when he recognizes the landscape underneath him. Of course, _of fucking course, _his subconscious would take him here.

Tony lands heavily in the suit, careful not to stomp on any of the flowerbeds that surround the quaint, pink cottage. The one place he comes to be completely himself, with no worries or concerns.

Tony spends the next couple of days tinkering around, mulling things over. And by mulling, he means being depressed and slouching around the cottage, but we’re not talking about that.

He ignores the innumerable calls from the Avengers; most are from Steve.

He can’t go back to New York. He can’t, can’t, _can’t_. Someone will realize, and the entire Stark legacy will crumple.

But he can’t stop being Ironman, either. Ironman needs to be available at a moment’s notice, and living apart from the team will strip him of that ability.

Tony starts working on remote-controlled armour that directly interfaces with his thoughts, measured only by a small, simple headband.

He _doesn’t _cry. He doesn’t. It’s windy out, in the indoor lab of the cottage. That’s all.

And, who cares if he’s only eating protein shakes, or sleeping two hours a night? Tony used to do that all the time, before- _well. _Before Steve and his fucking _squad _came in and started being nice and shit.

It’s fine. Tony’s fine.


	6. A Fraction of a Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so short it's not even getting a summary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can slowly see my soul start to disintegrate as these chapters get shorter and shorter agh

JARVIS has observed Sir carefully over the past couple of days. He appears to be in extreme emotional distress, but refuses to allow JARVIS to employ any feel-better protocols for Tony, all of which were implemented by Steve Rogers. 

Steve Rogers. 

JARVIS contemplates Steve Rogers for a moment- a fraction of a second- and runs some data. 

It appears that, through all measurable indexes, Sir is 55% happier, healthier, and more productive when Steve is present in his life. Currently, Sir is the unhappiest he has been since before New York, due to Steve, as well as the other Avengers, not being present in his life. 

JARVIS’ main protocol is to ensure that Sir is as happy, healthy, safe, and productive as possible. 

It is well within his parameters to send Sir’s GPS location to Steve Roger’s StarkPhone.


	7. UwU and RawR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A polite throat clears just as Tony begins to drift off, and Tony shrieks and drops his purple mug with cat ears. It shatters on the ground.
> 
> He peels back the eye mask, and- no. No no no no no no no no no NO!
> 
> There, sitting bashfully at his kitchen table- his soft kitchen, the one with the cherry pink stove and the animal-themed chopsticks- is Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what to say at this point. If you've made it this far, you're legally bulletproof or something idk

Tony stumbles into the kitchen after a long day working in the lab, dressed a fuzzy onesie. He bee-lines for the tea, always a preference when he’s alone, before collapsing in a baby blue beanbag in the corner of the kitchen (he’s rich, he can have a beanbag in the kitchen if he damn well wants one).

Tony, well versed with the place as he is, does this all with his eyes closed, shrouded by a small unicorn-themed sleeping mask. Because, well, laziness.

A polite throat clears just as Tony begins to drift off, and Tony shrieks and drops his purple mug with cat ears. It shatters on the ground.

He peels back the eye mask, and- no. No no no no **_no no no no no NO!_**

There, sitting bashfully at his kitchen table- _his soft kitchen, the one with the cherry pink stove and the animal-themed chopsticks-_ is Steve Rogers.

Captain America.

The Hardest Hard Böi to ever Hard, who now knows that Tony- that Tony-

“😧” Steve softly says, and Tony realizes that he’s panicking, breath coming too fast, and Steve’s next to him, telling him how to breathe, in-out-in-out. “🌬🌬🌬”

Tony’s breath slows down, slowly bringing himself out of that haze of panic and fear, and he’s immediately overwhelmed by an intense sense of shame. He can’t bring himself to look Steve in the eye.

This is the peak of vulnerability, crouched and shivering in a fuzzy beanbag and dressed in a fucking panda onesie.

But Steve takes his chin, gently tilts it up, and- _just like Tony had, all those years ago when he lay down on the wire - _defies expectations.

“♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️” he murmurs, and- oh my god.

See, the thing is. 💗 is platonic, right? That’s, like, ‘you’re my pink fuzzy friend.’ And 💕 is companionship, two hearts beating next to each other.

But ♥️?

That’s love. Romantic love. That Steve Rogers just said to him, on the floor of Tony’s pink perfect cottage in the middle of the softest summer sunshine, with perfect acceptance, and, and- LOVE.

“♥️♥️♥️” Tony replies because it’s the truth. And then, just because he can, because he doesn’t have to hide, whispers “UwU.”

Steve’s eyes get all soft and mushy, and he whispers “RAWR” back, before pecking to him on the nose.

“🍆🍑😉 “ Tony asks slyly, and Steve laughs, this great Rawr-ous (get it) thing.

“✅ ✅ ✅” he replies, and there’s not much talking after that.

The following hours go something like this:

😉🧢🥾👔👕.

🍆➡️🍑😳😳🆒🆒.

🇺🇸🔝.

🍑🍆🍑🍆🍑🍆🍑🍆🍑🍆.

⏩⏩⏭⏭🗯🗯💦💦

OwO

😆😆😆

♥️♥️

Afterwards, they lie, curled up in the stupidly large blue fuzzy beanbag, still in the kitchen (they didn’t have much motivation to move.) The only thing running through Tony’s mind is that he’s never been as soft as he is now.

And then he feels it.

Deep in his chest, the UwU roared, tumbling over one another again and again to form a deep, rumbling purr:

UwUwUwUwUwUwUwUwUwUwU

It’s continuous, the UwU purr: a sign of true softness. Steve like at him surprised, and then his own started up in his chest, rumbling against Tony’s back.

RawRRawRRawRRawRRawR

There they sat; the hard Böi and the Soft Böii; sending their purrs out into the night.

♥️


	8. its finally over thank fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a very short ending so we suffer as minimally as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly though if you're reading this, thanks for sticking with me lmao I hope you found this as ridiculous, terrible, and fun as I did.
> 
> And even if no-one reads this entire story I had a hilarious time writing it so yeah.

Steve gently persuades him, with lots of kisses and nuzzles, to come back to New York. 

They don’t tell the other Avengers, but Tony stops hiding his orientation. The coffee maker, originally a depressing black, becomes a light blue. The pillows seem to be breeding like rabbits, cropping up everywhere in the communal spaces. Tony shuffles around in massive, bright pink slippers. 

Tony discovers something he thought he’d lost in Yinsen; the firm, unwavering belief that orientation doesn’t matter. Nobody says a word, because the fact that Tony is a Soft Böi isn’t noteworthy. It’s as interesting as knowing that he likes crew socks instead of ankle socks.   
To the Avengers, all that matters is that you have morals, powers, and a desire to do good. 

What does matter is the fact that Tony and Steve finally hooked up, and Natasha won the betting pool. Well, JARVIS won the betting pool but was disqualified because he’s basically omniscient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just FYI I has no idea if Tony ever goes public with this shit or not so make it up I guess.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments + kudos are loved- if you have any ideas on how to make this worse, let me know. I really want this fic to be truly one of the most horrible things you've ever read. Have fun.


End file.
